the hunt for art

I'm searching for some sweet art for my home.  I have never successfully hung anything on the walls of any of my 'homes,' which were more accurately termed temporary establishments of one-year leases that I slept in.  I've never gotten anything up on the wall because the reality of how temporary any of those apartments were was apparent, and I can't find anything I want to stare at for any extended period of time. 

And I do mean stare.  Like space-cadet.  I have a wandering brain problem, the Man calls it the 'spanish channel,' that's because one of the first time we were together was at the GoldRoc, and they played the spanish channel on tv, and I don’t' have good conversations skills when I first meet very attractive men, and so I stare off into space, at the spanish channel.  So any art that I hang on the wall has to occupy my drifted mind.  I want, no NEED, something that I can get lost in.  I could sit and stare at the art when I'm avoiding a conversation, or ignoring my dog, or pretending to be pondering life's existence.  Whatevs.

The Man and I are more than likely going to be renewing our lease on the gorgeous! amazing! spectacular! condo we are currently leasing.  And while the views have sustained us for the past year, the Man has decided it’s time for something to go on the wall with the intent of us looking at it often.  Since we cohabitate, we now have to agree to something.  We’ve never had to do this before.  Previously, our home furnishing decisions have gone something like this: him- “I have a couch.” me- “good, I don’t.”  him- “I have a bed.” me- “good, I don’t.”  him- “I have a big tv.” me- “good, mine’s the size of my head.”  (My head as in physically, not egotistically)  End of story.  Now we have to join our different lack of styles.

I want something that is going to be just as gorgeous! amazing! spectacular! as our condo views.  And I have, well, interesting and finicky taste.  Once I asked the Man if I could hang nude art in our bedroom.  Not like a giant vagina on the wall or a naked orgy sex scene or boobs, boobs, boobs.  Definitely not a schlong.  But something tasteful; I enjoy classy silhouetted nudes, the human body is magnificent.  Despite that, I got a resounding HELL NO from the Man.

So I’m at a loss.  I have peculiar tastes, and I don’t do generic.  If I can’t have naked ladies on my walls, I don’t want anything on my walls.  I don’t want to decorate my walls with faux vintage French liquor ads like every other wanna-be interior designer hack, and I’m not hanging a iron swirl candle holder from Bed Bath and Beyond.  I’d say photography, but I prefer the textures of paint and charcoal.  I’d hang tons of interesting mirrors on my wall if I free will, because let’s face it, I’d rather look at myself than some hack reproduction Renoir painting.